


Everything's Changing

by Green



Series: Love is Thick [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hugs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Peter Hale is Stiles's father, Sheriff Stilinski is a Bad Parent, Young Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 15:41:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8629687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Green/pseuds/Green





	

Stiles is alone with her mother, who is sleeping. Her father (never 'dad'; he won't let her call him that) is working. Something about an accident, a nurse whispers. For a moment, Stiles has a wild hope that the accident means _he_ is hurt. Killed, even. But then she realizes that's not at all what it means, and then she feels guilty for not feeling guilty.

 

She used to want her father to love her. Now she only wants him to ignore her. It's best when he just forgets she exists.

 

Stiles is almost ten. Ten tomorrow, actually. Not that anyone knows that. No one ever remembers except teachers (who have a spreadsheet to keep track of all their students) and her mom.

 

Now… just teachers, she guesses. Her mother hasn't been lucid enough to recall what day she's living in for months.

 

But a teacher has never baked her favorite cupcakes. In fact, a teacher has never pronounced her name correctly. Only mom. Mom is the only family who loves her, the only person who knows all of Stiles's favorite things. Favorite movies, favorite superheroes. Favorite non-superhero comics. Favorite songs, albums. No one else even knows her favorite color.

 

Stiles thinks about these things a lot. She thinks if she was older she'd be bitter about it. Now, she's just scared. 

 

Her mind wanders and she slips her hand into her mother's lax one. She's got soft restraints, so there's nothing really hindering it. Soft restraints to go with the chemical restraints.

 

She thinks about her godfather. Peter Hale. It gives her a small flicker of warmth to consider it. That she's not completely bereft of people who care. Maybe, if Peter sticks around, he'll want to know a few of those favorites Stiles has. Maybe he likes comics. Maybe he likes the same music she listened to with her mom. Maybe he'll hug her again, like he did when he was leaving the day before. She feels like such a baby to care so much about that hug, but…

 

No one but the nurses and her teacher have hugged her in a long time, and they were all women. It shouldn't really matter the gender of the person who hugs you. But Stiles knows she's missing a positive male presence in her life, even though no one else does. She gets that there are real psychosocial reasons for her to be practically craving Peter's arms around her again.

 

He gave her his phone number. She memorized it but she's also got it in her pocket, folded up like a secret.

* * *

She's sitting there beside her mom, holding her hand, when the heart monitor starts giving an alarm. No one comes running, though, so she figures it's another false alarm. She should check, though. Just to be sure.

 

And then she realizes her mom's heart has stopped beating. That she's not breathing.

 

Stiles should hit the nurse call button. Instead, she puts the alarm on silent and climbs up on the bed with her mom. It's safe now. She won't wake up and scream, or hurt herself trying to get away. Or trying to hurt Stiles.

 

It's been months since she's been this close to her mother. And it's the last time. She can let herself have this.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, she slips out of the room and calls Peter. 

 

He comes when she calls. It's so quick it feels almost immediate.

 

Once someone finds her mom, Peter sweeps Stiles out of the hospital and takes her home. Not to her home, but to his. Or his sister's, rather, where he's been staying.

 

No one says a word when Peter leads Stiles upstairs and they sit on his bed and talk. And cry. And… is it bad that Stiles has a favorite thing about the night her mother died? She feels like it's wrong, maybe. She doesn't care. Peter lets her crawl into his arms and burrow against his side. He holds her and rumbles a comforting noise. Tells her it's okay, he's got her. 

 

Stiles wishes it was true. Maybe she's thinking about death because her mom is gone, but she figures if she died here and now, right in Peter's arms, it would be okay. Better than having to go home in a little while where her father will eventually return. 

 

But then Peter says something, breaking the silence of the room.

 

"I'm not just your godfather, Stiles," he says. His voice is quiet but not soft. Tender. He's tender with her when he touches and when he talks. It's such a new thing, so strange. So wonderful.

 

"What do you mean?" Stiles asks, her heart beating faster without knowing the reason why.

 

"I didn't know until recently, but your mother and I were friends who… well, we were together once. She was so sad and I wanted to make her happy. And when we…"

 

"Mom cheated on my father?" Stiles asks, confused.

 

"No. This was before they got married. She got pregnant with you." Peter takes a breath, and Stiles realizes he's nervous. She slips her hand into his and he holds it firmly, strong and warm. "I'm your dad, but I didn't know. She didn't tell me."

 

Stiles squeezes her eyes shut tightly, so tight she can see patterns burst behind her eyelids. Fireworks against a black sky. "Oh god," she tries to say, but she wheezes instead. She has no air.

 

But Peter calms her. He rubs her back and breathes slow in a way she can follow. 

 

When she can speak again, she doesn't know what to say. Then, "Can I call you Daddy? He never… I have to call him my father or sir or now sheriff, but he won't even let me call him Dad. Oh god, can I live with you? Can I… will you keep me? Daddy?"

 

Peter lets out a sound that's almost like a sob of relief. He gathers her into his arms again and rocks her just a little. "Yes. To all of it. I'll be Daddy if it's okay with you. And I'm going to fight for you, just wait. I can't keep you yet, but I will. I promise."

 

She wants to tell him about how her father… how the sheriff hurts her. But she doesn't want to ruin the wonderful mood.

 

"Best birthday present," she whispers. Then remembers her mother, and why she's here with Peter in the first place, and she bursts into tears.

 

Too much emotion. She can't take it. It's… god, it's embarrassing. She hopes he doesn't change his mind about her.

 

But he just holds her. It's amazing.

* * *

Eventually she has to go home, though. 

 

She sits in Peter's car parked at the curb, reluctant to leave his presence. The sheriff's ( _not her father's_ ) car isn't in the driveway yet. "You promise you're mine? My dad?"

 

Peter takes her chin in his fingers. It should be sore when he touches her there, because of where it got hurt, but she could swear Peter's touch sucks the pain right out. He looks at her so intensely his eyes nearly glow. "I am yours," he says, slow and deliberate and hushed like a vow.

 

Okay then. She can face this — the house, the sheriff, a life without her mom now — as long as that is true. She nods, and throws her arms around him one last time, buries her face in his neck. He smells so good. Not like cologne or detergent or stinky aftershave. Not like whiskey or… anything bad. He smells safe. She wishes she could breathe him in forever, but she has to let him go for now, she knows. 

 

It seems he feels the same way, like she smells good to him, too. He breathes in deep against her head, and she feels bad because she can't remember the last time she washed her hair so she probably doesn't smell _that_ good, but Peter doesn't seem to mind at all. 

 

"I'll see you soon. Call me if you need me, okay? I'll come no matter what."

 

Stiles thinks of all the things that could happen if the sheriff comes home less than sober. But she's strong, she can get through it. She'll run if she needs to, but she probably won't need to. "I'll be okay," she tells him.

 

Then he kisses her temple. It's… really nice. It makes her lean in and kiss his cheek. His whiskers prickle her lips and she likes it. She blushes. "Is that… I can, right?" She should have asked first.

 

"I'm your daddy, sweetheart. Hugs and kisses are part of the whole package deal. It's okay, I promise. Anytime you want," Peter assures her. 

 

Her eyes are hot and as wet as her cheeks. It seems like a dream. Is she dreaming? Has she fallen asleep at the hospital and created an elaborate fantasy where her godfather is her real and honestly true father, a _daddy_ who will hug her and kiss her temple and stroke her hair like he's doing now, and look at her with his heart in his eyes?

 

"What's wrong?" he asks. "Are you okay, baby girl?"

 

Someone who calls her sweetheart and baby girl and is all _hers_?

 

"I shouldn't be so happy tonight," she whispers. "She died and I can't even feel that sad because I'm just so happy about this. You."

 

"Claudia gave us the most precious gift. She wouldn't want you to be sad," Peter tells her. "She'd understand if you are, because when someone you love dies, you're going to miss them and grieve. Maybe not right away, but you will. I will, too. But she made sure we had each other, you see? So sweetheart, it's okay. This is what she wanted for you. To be safe and loved, to know the truth. And I'm going to make sure we can be together. Your aunt Talia and I are already working on it. Just hold out a little longer and we'll have everything we want."

 

"Loved?" Stiles asks, her voice trembling. "Can you… do you think?"

 

"Stiles," Peter says, stroking her hair gently. "Baby, I already do. You're my flesh and bone and blood. You're mine as much as I'm yours, right?"

 

She nods, because yes, very much yes. She's his and he's hers.

 

"I love you so much I can barely stand it," Peter says, and he sounds like he's not sure how it's possible. She understands that feeling. He takes her face in his hands, which are big and a little cool against her hot cheeks. He sweeps away her tears with his thumbs. "It's so deep it almost hurts to feel it, but only in the best way possible. It scares me a little, how fast it happened, and how big it is, like my body can barely contain it all. And it only keeps growing and growing, every new minute that goes by. So yes, baby. I love you. I couldn't feel any other way about you."

 

She's shaking by the time he's finished speaking, and can't get any words out for herself, but he just gathers her close again. It should be uncomfortable to be held in the middle of the front of a car, but Peter makes sure she's not touching any of the hard, jabby parts of the console or gear shift. She's just safe against his chest, burrowed as close as she can get.

 

She wants to say it back, say, _I love you too, Daddy_ , but she's crying and breathing too hard like she's been running and she starts hiccupping and she's getting snot on his nice white shirt and can't seem to stop. Her hands are clasping and unclasping around his neck, little nails digging into his skin. She stops and fists her hands instead so she doesn't hurt him, but otherwise has no other control over what she's doing.

 

And now she's giggling because it's ridiculous and she's dumb like that. 

 

But maybe her daddy is dumb like that, too, because he laughs against her, soft chuffing she can feel puffing against the crown of her head. 

 

"I think you're overtired at this point, sweetheart. Why don't you go inside and wash your face, then go to bed? I'll call you in the morning. Around ten?" he asks.

 

She still can't speak, but she hiccups another giggle/sob and nods agreement.

 

"I love you, Stiles," he says once more as she's clumsily leaving the car.

 

She gains her breath back and says, "Me… me too. I do, too."

 

His smile lights his face, his blue eyes. If her own brown wasn't a connection to her mom, she'd wish she had his eyes. 

 

She shuts the passenger door and stumbles up the walk. She gets the key from under the mat and turns to wave back at him once she gets the door unlocked. It's dark, but she can see him wave back. He doesn't drive away until he sees she's safely inside. Actually, he doesn't drive away until after she's locked the deadbolt, as if he knows when she does it.

 

Maybe she's made up a wonderful new daddy in her dreams and he's got special powers to keep her safe, too. That _would_ make the fantasy a hundred percent perfect.

* * *

Stiles startles awake when she hears the downstairs door slam. For long minutes, she holds herself still, as quiet as she can when she wants to hyperventilate. Her heartbeat is loud in her head. 

 

But she can still hear the sheriff trudge up the stairs with heavy, clumsy footfalls. He's already been drinking, then.

 

She holds her covers tight under her chin as she listens for every sound.

 

He passes her room but she doesn't dare hope yet. She hears him go into his room… their room, her mom and this man. 

 

She hears… she hears him cry himself to sleep. She's not sure what to feel about that. Guilt, mostly. She didn't cry herself to sleep. She was too happy. Maybe… maybe he loved her more. Or maybe he has nothing left, not like she does.

 

When he's asleep (snoring loudly, the way he always does when he's had too much to drink), she lets herself breathe normally again. 

 

She relaxes and pictures Peter's eyes, as clear and warm as the summer sky.


End file.
